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1578 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 


Come,  Lasses  and  Lads 7 

Comin'  Thro'  the  Rye        lo 

Cherry-Ripe II 

Annie  Laurie 12 

Robin  Adair 14 

]\IoLLY  Bawn 15 

Go,  Happy  Rose!        16 

The  Anchor's  Whigh'd 18 

Alice  Gray 20 

Home,  Sweet  Home 22 

John  Anderson,  My  Jo 23 

My  Pretty  Jane 25 

Rock'd  in  the  Cradle  of  the  Deep       .  27 

The  Minstrel  Boy 28 

On  the  Banks  of  Allan  Water     ...  30 

An  1)  Lang  Syne 32 

Within  a  Mile  of  Edinburgh  Town      .  34 

The  Night-Piece  to  Julia 36 

Tom  Bowling 3'S 

My  Love  is  Like  the  Red  Red  Rose    .  40 

W'iDow  Malone 42 

The  Jolly  Young  Waterman      .     .     .     .  4() 

Caller  Herrin' 52 


6  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

A  Hunting  We  Will  Go 35 

Hearts  of  Oak 58 

The  Fine  Old  English  Gentleman      .  60 

The  Bay  of  Biscay  O! 65 

Black-Eyed  Susan 68 

Duncan  Gray       73 

The  Bailiff's  Daughter   of    Islington  77 

The  Miller  of  Dee 82 

The  Angel's  Whisper 84 

Simon  the  Cellarer 87 

Auld  Robin  Gray gi 

Bonnie  Dundee 97 

Sally  in  Our  Alley 100 

Kitty  of  Coleraine 106 

Here's    to    the    Maiden    of    Bashful 

Fifteen 108 

The  Leather  Bottel 112 

W^ooDMAN,  Spare  that  Tree     .     .     .     .  124 

The  Token 126 

O  Wert  thou  in  the  Cauld  Blast      .  128 

The  Passionate  Shepherd  to  his  Lo\k  130 

Lovely  Nan 133 

The  Lass  of  Richmond  Hill  ....  136 

Tell  me  Not,  Sweet        139 

She  Wore  a  Wreath  of  Roses    .     .     .  140 

O  Nanny,  Wilt  thou  Go  with  Me  ?    .  142 

D'ye  Ken  John  Peel? 145 


,.  r 


COME,    LASSES    AND    LADS. 


POME,  lasses  and  lads, 

get  leave  of  your  dads, 


Aim  away  to  the  Maypole  hie, 
For  ev'ry  fair  has  a  sweetlieart  there. 
And  tlic   fiddler's  standini;-  bv ; 


8  OLD    BALLADS. 

For  Willy  shall  dance  with  Jane, 

And  Johnny  has  got  his  Joan, 
To  trip  it,  trip  it,  trip  it,  trip  it. 

Trip  it  up  and  down ! 

"You're  out,"  says  Dick;   "not  I,"  says  Nick, 

'"Twas  the  fiddler  play'd  it  wrong;" 
"'Tis  true,"  says  Hugh,  and  so  says  Sue, 

And  so  says  ev'ry  one. 
The  tiddler  than  began 

To  play  the  tune  again, 
And  ev'ry  girl  did  trip  it,   trip  it, 

Trip  it  to  the  men  ! 

Then,  after  an  hour,  they  went  to  a  bow'r, 

And  play'd  for  ale  and  cakes; 
And  kisses  too, — until   they  were  due. 

The  lasses  lield  the  stakes. 
The  girls  did  then  begin 

To  quarrel   with  the  men. 
And  bade  them   take  their  kisses  back, 

And  give  them   their  own   again  ! 


OLD    BALLADS.  9 

"Good-night,"  says  Harry; 

"good-night,"  says  Mary; 

"Good-night,"  says  Poll  to  John; 
"Good-night,"   says  Sue 

to  her  sweetheart  Hugh ; 

"Good-night,"  says  ev'ry  one. 
Some  walk'd  and  some  did  run. 

Some  loiter'd  on  the  way, 
And  bound  themselves  by  kisses  twelve, 

To  meet  the  next  holiday. 


COMING    THRO'    THE    RYE. 


pIN  a  body   meet  a  body 

Comin'  Ihro'   the  rye, 
Gin  a  body  kiss  a  body, 
Need  a  body  cry? 

Ilka  hissie  has  her  kultlic, 

Naiie,   they  say,   hae  I, 
Yet  a'   the  kids  they  smile    at  me 

When   comin'   thro'   the  rve. 


OLD   BALLADS.  ii 

Gin  a  body  meet  a  body 

Comin'   frac  the  town, 
Gin  a  body  meet  a  body, 

Need  a  body  frown? 
Ilka  lassie  has,  etc. 

iVmani;  the  train  there  is  a  swain 

I  dearly  lo'e  mysel'; 
But  what  his  name,  or  whaur  his  hame, 

I   dinna  care   to    tell. 

Ilka  lassie  has,   etc.        Anon. 


CHERRY-RIPE. 

PHERRY-RIPE,    ripe,  ripe,  I  cry, 

I'^ull   and  fair  ones,   come  and  l)uy; 
If  so  be  you  ask  me  where 
They  do  grow?     I  answer,  There, 
Where  my  Julia's  lips  do  smile. 
There's  the   land  or  cherry  isle. 
Whose  plantations    fully  show 
All   the  year,   where  cherries  grow. 

Herri ck. 


ANNIE   LAURIE. 

]V/|AXWELTON  braes  are  bonnie, 

Where  early  fa's  the  dew; 
And  it's  there  that  Annie  Laurie 

Gied  mc  her  promise  true  ; 
Gicd  me  her  promise  true, 

Which  ne'er  lorgot  will   be; 
And  for  bonnie  Annie  Laurie 

I'd   lay  me  doun   and  dee. 

Her  bi'ow   is  lilcc  the  snnw-drift, 

1  Icr  throat  is  like  the  swan. 
Her  face  it  is  the  fairest 

Tiiat  e'er  the  sun   shone  on; 
That  e'er  the   sun   shone  on, 

.And  dark  blue  is  her  ee; 
And  for  bonnie  Annie  Laurie 

I'd  lav   nie   tloun   and  dee. 


OLD    BALLADS. 


13 


Like  dew  on  the  gowan  lying, 

Is  the  fa'   o'  her  fairy  feet; 
And  hke  winds  in  summer  sighing, 

Her  voice  is  low  and  sweet; 
Her  voice  is  low  and  sweet, 

And  she's  all  the  world  to  me; 
And  for  bonnie  Annie  Laurie 

I'd  lay  me  doun  and  dee. 


ROBIN    ADAIR. 

WHAT'S  this  dull  town  to  me? 

Robin's  not  near. 
What  was't  I  wish'd  to  see, 

What  wish'd  to  hear? 
Where's  all  the  joy  and   mirth 
Made  this  town  a  heav'n  on  earth? 
Oh,  they're  all  fled  with  thee, 

Robin   Adair. 

What  made  th'  assembly  shine? 

Robin   Adair. 
What  made  the  ball   so   fine? 

Robin  was  there. 
What  when   the  play  was  o'er. 
What  made  my  heart  so  sore? 
Oh,   it  was  parting  with 

Robin   Adair. 


OLD    BALLADS.  15 

But  now  thou'rt  cold  to   mc, 

Robin  Adair. 
But  now  thou'rt  cold  to  me, 

Robin  Adair. 
Yet  he  I  lov'd  so  well 
Still  in   my  heart  shall  dwell; 
Oh,    1   can  ne'er   forget 

Robin  Adair. 


iMOLLY    BAWN. 

rvIT,   Molly   Bawn,    why  leave  me  pinini;-, 

All   lonely,   wnitinc;'   here   ior  you? 
While  the  stars  above  are  brightly    shining, 

Because  they've  nothing  else  to   do. 
The   flowers  late  were  open  keeping. 

To  try  a  rival  blush   with   you; 
i5ut  their  mother,  Nature,  set  them  sleeping, 

Widi  ihcir  rosy  faces  wash'd  with  dew. 
Oh,  Molly   Bawn,   why   leave  me  pining, 

vVll   lonely,   waiting  here   for  you  .^ 


1 6  OLD    BALLADS. 

Now  the  pretty  flowers  were 

made  to  bloom,  dear, 
And  the  pretty  stars  were  made  to  shine; 
And  the  pretty  girls  were 

made  for  the  boys,  dear, 
And  may  be  you  were  made  for  mine: 
The  wicked  watch-dog  here  is  snarHng, 

He  takes  me  for  a  thief,  you  sec; 
For  he  knows  I'd  steal  you, 

Molly,  darling, 
And  then  transported  I  should  be. 
Oh,  IMolly  Bawn,   why  leave   me  pining, 
.'Ml  lonely,   waiting  here   for  you'c' 

Saiiuicl  Lover. 


G 


GO,    HAPPY    ROSE! 

O,  ha|)iiv   Rose!   and  intci-wove 
I 

Willi   other   flowers,   hind   my    ]i>ve. 

Tell  her,   too,   slic   must  not   be 

Longer  flowing,  longer  free. 

That   so  oft  has  fctter'd  me. 


OLD    BALLADS. 


17 


Say,  it   slic's  fretful.  T  have  bands 
Of  pearl  and  gold   to  bind  her  hands; 
Tell  her,  if  she  struggle  still, 
I  have   myrtle  rods  at  will, 
For  to  tame  though  not  to  kill. 


Take  thou   my  blessing  thus,  and  go. 
And  tell   her  this,  —  but  do  not  so! 
Lest  a  handsome  anger  fly 
Like  a   lightning   from   her  eye. 
And   burn   thee   up   as   well   as   1. 

Ih-rrkk. 


THE   ANCHOR'S    WEIGH'D. 

'^FHE  tear  fell  gently  from  her  eye, 

When  last  we  parted  on  the  shore ; 
Aly  bosom  heav'd  with  many  a  sigh, 

To  think  I  ne'er  might  see  her  more. 
"Dear  youth,"  she  cried, 

"and  canst  thou  haste  away? 
My  heart  will  break ;   a   little    moment   stay. 
Alas,  I  cannot,  I  cannot  part  from  thee. 
The  anchor's  weigh'd, 

farewell!  remember  me." 

"Weep  not,   my  love,"  I  trembling  said, 
"Doubt  not  a  constant  heart  like  mine; 

I   ne'er  can   meet   another  maid, 
Whose  charms  can  fix 

that  heart  like  thine!" 


OLD    BALLADS. 


19 


"Go,  then,"  she  cried, 

"but  let  thy  constant  mind 
Olt  think  of  her  you  leave  in  tears  behind." 
"Dear  niaid,   this  last  embrace 

my  pledge  shall  be  ! 
The  anchor's  weigli'd! 

farewell !  remember  me." 

.v.   y.  Arnold. 


ALICE    GRAY. 

CHE'S  all   my  fancy  painted  her. 

She's  lovely,   she's  divine; 
But  her  heart  it  is  another's, 

She  never  can  be  mine ; 
Yet  lov'd  I  as  man   never  lov'd, 

A  love  without  decay, 
Oh!   my  heart,   my  heart  is  breaking 

For  the  love  of  Alice  Gray  ! 

Her  dark   brown   hair  is  braided 

O'er  a   brow  of  s])otless  white; 
Her  soft  blue  eye  now  languishes, 

Now  flashes  with   delight; 
Her  hair  is  braided   not   lor  mc, 

The   eye  is  turned   away; 
Yet,   m\'   heait,   my   heart  is  breakmg 

For  the  love  of  Alice  Gray. 


OLD    BALLADS. 


21 


I've  sunk  beneath  the  summer's  sun, 
And  trembled  in  the  blast; 

But  my  pil<^rimage  is  nearly  done, 
The  weary  conflict's  past: 


And   when  the  green   sod   wraps    my  grave, 

May  pity  haply  say, 
Oh!   his  heart,   hi>   heart   is   bmken 

For  the  love  of  Alice  Gray. 

IVilliam  Met. 


HOME,    SWEET   HOME. 


'V/IID  pleasures  and  palaces 

though  we  may  roam, 
Be  it  ever  so  humble, 

there's  no  place  like  home! 
A  charm  from  the  skies 

seems  to   hallow  us  there, 
Which,   seek  thro'  the  world, 

is  ne'er  met  with   elsewhere. 
Home  !   home !  sweet,  sweet  home  ! 
There's  no  place  like  home ! 
There's  no  place  like  home! 


OLD    BALLADS.  23 

An  exile  from  home  splendour 

dazzles  in  vain, 
Oh!  give  me  my  lowly  thatch'd 

cottage  again ! 
The  birds  singing  gaily  that  came  at  my  call, 
Give  me  them  with  the  peace  of 

mind   dearer  than  all. 
Home!  home!  sweet,  sweet  home! 
There's  no  place  like  home! 
There's  no  place  like  home! 

y.   Howard  Payne. 


J 


JOHN   ANDERSON,    MY  JO. 

OHN    ANDERSON,  my  Jo,  John, 
When   we   were  hrst  acquent, 
Your  locks   were   like  the  raven, 
Your  bonnie  brow   was  brent; 
But  now    your  brow  is   beUl,  John, 

Your  locks  are   like  the  sn;iw; 
But  blessings  on  your  frosty   l)ow, 
John  Anderson,   ni\-  Jo. 


24 


OLD    BALLADS. 


John  Anderson,  my  Jo,  John, 

We  clanib  the  hill   thegither; 
And  monie  a  canty  day,  John, 

We've  had  \vi'   ane  anither  : 
Now  we  maun  totter  down,  John, 

But  liand  in  hand  we'll  go. 
And  sleep  thegither  at  the  foot, 

John  Anderson,   my  Jo. 

Burns  (Xnv  Version). 


MY    PRETTY    JANE. 


\\\   pretty  Jane,   my   pi'etty  Jane! 

^\h!   never,   never  look  so  shy; 
P)Ut  meet   mc  in   the    evening, 

While  tlie   bloom   is   on  the  rye. 
The  spring  is  waning   last,   my  love, 

The  corn   is   in   the  ear, 
Ihe  sunmier  nights  are  coming,   love, 

'I  he    moon    shines   bright   and   clear. 
Then,   pretl}'    |anc,   my   dearest  Jane! 

.Mil    never   look-   so   sh\', 
But   meet   me   in   the   evening, 

While   the   bloom   is  on   the  rvc. 


OLD    BALLADS. 

But  name  the  day,  the  weddins^  day, 

And  I   will  buy  the  rinL;- ; 
The   lads  and   maids  in  favours  white 

And  village  bells  shall  ring. 
The  spring  is  waning  fast,   my  love, 

The  corn  is  in  the  ear, 
The  summer  nights  are  coming,  love, 

The  moon  shines  bright  and  clear. 
Then,  pretty  Jane,  my  dearest  Jane! 

Ah  I   never  look  so  shy, 
But  meet  me  in  the   evening. 

While  the  bloom  is  on  the  rye. 

FAnvard  I'itzhaiL 


ROCKED  IX  THE  CRADLE 
OF  THE  DEEP. 

OOCK'D  in  the  cradle  of  the  deep, 

I  lay  nie  down  in  peace  to  sleep; 
Secure,  I  rest  upon  the  wave. 
For  Thou,   O  Lord,  liast  pow'r  to  save. 
I  know  Thou  wilt  not  slight   my  call, 
For  Thou  dost  note  the  sparrow's  fall, 
And  calm  and  peaceful  is  my  sleep, 
Rock'd  in  the  cradle  of  tlie  deep. 

And  such   the  trust  that  still  were  mine, 
llio'  stormy  winds  swept  o'er  the  brine; 
Or  thouc^h  the  tempest's  fiery  breath 
Rous'd  me  from  sleep  to  wreck  and  death 
In   ocean  cave  still  safe  with  Thee, 
The  tj;erm   of  immortality; 
And   calm    and   pcacctul    is   my   sleep, 
Rock'd   in    the   cradle   ol"  the   deej). 

Mrs.    Willani. 


THE   MINSTREL   BOY. 

'THE  Minstrel  boy  to  the  war  is  ^one, 

In  the  ranks  of  death  you'll   find  him  ; 
His  father's  sword  he  has  girded  on, 

And  his  wild  harp  slung  behind  him. — 
"Land  of  song!"   said  the   warrior-bard, 

"Though  all  the   world  betrays  thee. 
One  sword,   at  least,    thy  rights  shall   guard, 

0/^(:  faithful   harp   shall   i)raise  thee!" 


OLD    BALLADS. 


29 


The   Minstrel  fell! — but  the  foeman's  chain 

Could   not  bring  his  proud  soul  under; 
The  harp   he  loved  ne'er  spoke  again, 

For  he  tore  its  cords  asunder; 
And  said,   "No  chains   sliall   sully  thee, 

Thou  soul   of  love  and   bravery  ! 
Thy  songs  were  made  f  )r  the  brave  and  free, 

The_\'  shall   never  sound   in  slavery!" 

Thomas   Moore. 


.^^^       ■     ^^ 


X 


^* 


ON   THE    BANKS   OF  1\LLAN  WATER. 


rjN  the  banks  of  Allan  Water, 
When   the  sweet 

Springtime  did   lall, 
Was  the  miller's  lovely  daughter, 

The  fairest  of  them   all. 
For  his  bride  a   soldier  sought   her, 

And   a   wiiming  tongue  had   he : 
On  the  banks  of  Allan  Water, 
None  so  gay  as  she. 


OLD    BALLADS.  31 

On  the  banks  of  Allan  Water, 

When  brown  Autumn  spreads  its  store, 
Then  I  saw  the  miller's  daughter, 

But  she  smiled  no  more ; 
For  the  Summer  grief  had  brought  her, 

And  the  soldier  false  was  he ; 
On  the  banks  of  Allan  Water, 

None  so  sad   as  she. 

On  the  banks  of  Allan  Water, 
When  the  Winter  snow  fell  fast. 

Still   was  seen  tiie   miller's  daughter. 
Chilling  blew  the  blast. 

But  the  miller's  lovelv  daughter, 
Both  from   cold  and  care  was   free: 

On  the  banks  of  Allan  Water, 

There  a  corpse  lay  she. 

A/.   G.  Lewis. 


AULD    LANG    SYNE. 

CIIOTLI)   aulil   aciiuaintancc   be   loii^ut, 

Am\  never  brought  to  niin'? 
Should   auld   acquaintance  be  forc;ot, 
And   da\s   o'   auld   lanii   svnc? 


CHORUS. 

Fuv  auld   lauL;'  syne,   ni_\'   dear, 

!'(  r  auld  lauL;  s)-ne, 
We'll    tak'    a    cu])'   o'    kindness   vet, 

I'or  auld   lani-'  svne. 


OLD    BALLADS.  33 

We  twa  hae  run   about  the  braes, 

And  pu'tl  the  gowans  fine ; 
But  we've  wandered  mony  a  weary  foot 

Sin  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld,  etc. 

We  twa  hae  paidl't  i'   the  burn, 

From  mornin'  sun   till  dine ; 
But  seas  between  us  braid  hae  roar'd 

Sin  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld,   etc. 

And  here's  a  hand,   niy   trusty  frien', 

And  gie's  a  hand  o'   thine ; 
And  we'll   tak   a  right  guid-willic  waught, 

For  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld,   etc. 

.Vnd  surely   yc'U  be  your  pint-stoup, 

And  surcl\-  I'll  be   mine ; 
And   we'll   tak   a   cup   o'   kindness  yet 

For  auld   lang  syne. 

k'or    auld,    etc.  Bunts. 


WITHIN   A   MILE    OF    EDINBURGH 
TOWN. 

'nrWAS   within   a   mile   of  EdinburL^h    town, 

In  the  rosy  time  of  tlie  year ; 
Sweet  flowers  bloom'd, 

and  the  grass  was  down, 
And  each  shepherd  woo'd  his  dear. 
Bonnie  Jocky,  blythe  and   gay, 
Kiss'd  sweet  Jenny  making  hay: 
The  lassie  blush'd,   and   frowning  cried, 

"No,   no,  it  will   not  do ; 
I  canna,  canna,  wonna,   wonna, 

manna  buckle  to." 

Jocky  w\as  a  wag  that  never  would   wed, 
Tiiough  long  he   had   foUow'd   the  lass: 


OLD    BALLADS.  35 

Contented  she  earn'd 

and  eat  her  brown  bread, 
.And  merrily  turn'd  up  tlie  grass. 
Bonnie  Jocky,  blythc  and  free, 
Won  her  heart  ri^ht  merrilv: 
Yet  still  she  blush'd,  and   frowning  cried, 

"No,   no,   it   will  not  do; 
I  canna,   canna,  wonna,   wonna, 

manna  buckle  to." 

But  when  he  vow'd  he  would 

make  her  his  bride, 
Though  his  flocks  and  herds 

were  not  few. 
She  gave  him   her  hand,    and   a  kiss  beside. 
And   vow'd   siic'd   lor  ever  be  true. 
Bonnie  Jocky,   blythe  and  free. 
Won   her  heart   right   merrily  : 
At  church   she   no   more   frowning   cried, 

"No,   no,   it   will   not  do; 
T  caima,   canna,   wonna,   wonna, 

niatuia   buckle   to." 


THE    NIGHT-PIECE   TO    JULIA. 

UER  eyes  the  glow-worni  lend  thee, 
The  shooting  stars  attend  thee; 

yVnd  the  elves  also, 

Whose  little  eyes  glow, 
Like  the  sparks  of  fire,  befriend  thee. 

No  \Vill-o'-th'-\Visp   mislight  thee, 
Nor  snake  or  slow-worm  bite  thee ; 

But  on,   on  thy   way. 

Not  making  a  stay. 
Since  gliost  there's  none  to  affright  thee. 

Let  not  the  dark-  thee  cumber; 

What  though   the   moon  does  slumber? 
The  stars  of  the  night 
Will   lend   thee  ihcir   light, 

Like  tapers  clear,   without   lunubcr. 


OLD   BALLADS. 

Then,  Julia,  let  me  woo  thee, 
Thus,  thus  to  conic  unto   nic ; 

And  when   I   shall   meet 

Thy  silv'ry   feet, 
Aly  soul  I'll  pour  into  thee. 


I  ferric  k. 


TOM    BOWLING. 


UERE,  a  sheer  luilk, 

lies  poor  Tom  Bowling, 
The  darling  of  our  crew  ; 
No   more   he'll   hear 

the  temj^est  howling, 
I'or  death   has  broach'd  him   to. 
His   form  was  of  the  manliest  beauty. 
His   heart   was   kind   and   soft; 


OLD    BALLADS,  39 


Faillil'ul   below  lie  did   his  duty, 
But  now  he's  gone  aloft. 


Tom   never  from  his  word  departed, 

His  virtues  were  so  rare ; 
His  friends  were   many 

and  true-hearted, 

His  Poll   was  kind  and  fair: 
And  then   he'd  sing 

so  blithe  and  jolly; 

Ah,  many's  the  time  and  oft! 
But  mirth  is  turn'd  to  melancholv, 

For  Tom  is  gone  aloft. 


Yet  shall  poor  Tom 

find   pleasant  weather, 
When    He   whd   ;ill    conmiantls, 
Shall  give,   to   call   lilc's 

crew  together, 
The  word   to  pij'ic   all   hands. 


40  OLD    BALLADS. 

Thus  Death,  who  kings 

and  tars  dispatches, 

In  vain  Tom's  Hfe  has  doff'd ; 
For  though  his  body's  under  hatches, 

His  soul  is  gone  aloft. 

Charles  Dibdiii. 


MY    LOVE   IS    LIKE    THE    Kh:D 
RED    ROSE. 

]V/|Y  love  is  like  the  red  retl  rose 
That's  newly  sprung  in   June; 
My   luvc   is   like   the   melody 

That's  sweetly   played  in  tune. 

As  fair  art  thou,   my   bonnie  lass, 

So  deej)   in   love  am   I ; 
And   1    will   love   thee   still,   my   ilcar, 

Till   a'   the  seas  gang  dry. 


OLD    BALLADS. 


41 


Till  a'  the  seas  gang  dry,  my  dear, 
And  the  rocks  melt  wi'  the  sun  ; 

And  I  will  love  thee  still,  my  dear, 
While  the  sands  of  life  shall  run. 


But,    fare   thee   weel,    my   only   love. 
And   fare  thee   weel   awhile; 

And    I    will   come   again,   my   dear, 
Though   'twere  ten   thousand   mile. 

Burns. 


WIDOW  MALONE. 


niD  you  hear  of  the  Widow  Malone, 

Ohone ! 
Who  Hved  in  the  town  of  Athlone ! 

Ohone ! 
Oh,  she  melted  the  hearts 
Of  the  swains  in  them  parts, 
So  lovely  the  Widow  Malone, 

Ohone! 
So  lovely  the  Widow  Malone. 


OLD    BALLADS.  43 

Of  lovers  she  had  a  full  score, 

Or  more, 
And  fortunes  they  all  had  galore, 

In  store ; 
From  the  minister  down 
To  the  clerk  of  the  crown. 
All  were  courting  the  Widow  Malone, 

Ohone! 
All  were  courting  the  Widow  Malone. 


But  so  modest  was  Mistress  IMalonc, 

'Twas  known, 
That  no   one  could  see  her  alone, 

Ohone 1 
Let  them  ogle  and  sigh. 
They  could  ne'er  catch  her  eye, 
So  bashful  the  Widow  Malone, 

Ohone I 
So  bashful  the  Widow   Malone. 


44 


OLD    BALLADS. 


Till  one  Mister  O'Brien,   from  Clare, — 

How  quare! 

It's  little  for  blushing  they  care 

Down  there, 


Put  his  arm   round  her  waist — 

Gave  ten  kisses  at  laste — 
"Oh,"  says    lie,    "you're    my   Alolly    Malone, 

i\iy  own  ! 
"Oh,"   says   he,    "you're   my   Molly  Malone." 


OLD    BALLADS.  45 

And  the  widow  they   aU  thoui^ht  so  shy, 

Aly  eye ! 
Ne'er  thought  of  a  simper  or  sic;'h, 

For  wliy  ?' 
P)Ut  "Lucius,"  says  she, 
"Since  you've  now  made  so  free. 
You  may   marry  your  Mary  Malone, 

Ohone! 
\'ou   may   marry  your  Alary  Malone." 

There's  a  moral  contained  in   my  song. 

Not  wrong, 
And  one  comfort,   it's  not   very   long, 

lUit  strong, — 
If  lor   widows   you   die, 
Learn  to  Idss,   not  to  sigh, 
l''or  they're    all    lil^e    sweet   Mistress   Malone, 

Ohone ! 

Oh,   tlicy're  all    like    sweet   .Mistress   Malone. 

Charles  I.ever. 


THE   JOLLA^    YOUNG   WATERMAN. 

AND  did  you  ne'er  licar 

of  a  jolly  young  waterman, 
Who  at  Blackfriars  Bridge 

used  for  to  ply? 
And  he  feathered  his  oars 

with   such   skill   and   dexterity, 
Winning  each   heart  and 

delighting  each   eye. 
He  look'd  so  neat, 

and   he   row'd   so  steadily. 
The   maidens   all   flock'd 

in   his  boat  so  readily; 
.And   he   eyed   the   \oung   rogues 

with  so  charming   an   air, 


OLD    BALLADS. 


49 


That  tliis   waterman   ne'er 

was  in   want  of  a  fare. 


What  si'^lits  of  fine   folks 

he  oft   row'd    in   his   wherry! 
'Tvvas  cleanVl  out  so   nice, 

and  so   i:)ainte(l   withal ; 


50  OLD    BALLADS. 

He  was  always  first  oars 

when  the  fine  city  ladies 
In  a  party  to  Ranelagh  went, 

or  Vauxhall. 
And  oftentimes  would  they 

be  giggling  and  leering, 
But  'twas  all  one  to  Tom 

their  gibing  and  jeering; 
For  loving  or  liking  he  little  did  care, 
For  this  waterman  ne'er 

was  in  want  of  a  fare. 


And  yet  but  to  see  how 

strangely  things  happen, 
As  he  row'd  along, 

thinking  of  nothing  at  all. 
He  was  ply'd  by  a  damsel 

so  lovely  and  charming, 
That  she  smil'd,  and  so  straightway 

in  love  he  did  fall. 


OLD    BALLADS. 


51 


And   would  this  young  damsel 

but  banish  his  sorrow, 
He'd  wed  her  to-night, 

and  not  wait  till  to-morrow; 
And  how  should  this 

waterman  ever  know  care. 
When,  married,  was  never  in  want  of  2l  fair. 

Charles  Dibdin, 


CALLER    HERRLW 


WHA'LL  buy  caller  hcrrin'? 

They're  bonnie  fish  and  halesome  farin'; 

Buy   my  caller  herrin', 

new  drawn   frae  the  Forth. 
When  ye  were  sleepini^  on  your  pillows, 


OLD    BALLADS.  53 

Dreamt  ye  aught  o'   our  puir  fellows, 

Darkling  as  they  face  the  billows, 

iV  to  fill  our  woven  willows. 

Buy  my  caller  herrin', 

They're  bonnie  fish  and  halesome  farin' ; 

Buy  my  caller  herrin', 

new  drawn   frae  the  Forth. 
Caller  herrin',   caller  herrin'. 

An'   when  the  creel  o'   herrin'   passes, 

Ladies  clad  in  silks   and  laces. 

Gather  in  their  braw   pelisses. 

Toss  their  heads  and  screw  their  faces ; 

Ikiy   my  caller  herrin', 

They're  bonnie  fish  and  halesome  farin'; 

Buy   my   caller  herrin', 

new  drawn   frae   Uie  Forth. 

Nog  neebor   wives,   come,   tent   my   tellin', 

Wlien  the   bonnie   fish  ye're  sellin' 

At  a  wcMxl  be  ave   vour  dcalin'. 

Truth   will   si.ind   when   ;i'   things   fiilin'; 


54 


OLD    BALLADS. 


Buy  my  caller  herrin', 

They're  bonnie  fish  and  halesome  farin' ; 

Buv  niv  caller  herrin', 

new  drawn  frae  the  Forth. 
Wha'U  buy  my   caller  herrin'? 
They're  no  brought  here  without  brave  darin', 
Buy  my  caller  herrin', 
Ye  little  ken  their  worth. 
Wha'U  buy  my  caller  herrin'  ? 
O  ye  may  ca'  them  vulgar  farin' ; 
Wives  and  mithers  maist  despairin', 
Ca'   them  lives  o'   men. 
Caller  herrin',   caller  herrin'. 

I.aJv   Nairue. 


A    HUNTING  WE  WILL    GO. 


'T^HE  dusky  night  rides  down  the  sky, 
And  ushers  in  the  morn  ; 

The  hounds  all  join   in  glorious  cry, 
The  huntsman   winds  his  horn. 
And  a  hunting  we  will   go. 

The  wife  around  her  husband  throws 
Her  arms  to  make  him  stay: 

"My  dear,  it  rains,   it  hails,   it  blows; 
You  cannot   hunt  to-day." 
Yet  a  luniting   we  will  go. 


5b  OLD    BALLADS. 

Away  they  fly  to  'scape  the  rout, 
Their  steeds  they  soundly  switch ; 

Some  are  thrown  in,   and  some  tlirown  out, 
And  some  thrown  in  the  cHtch. 
Yet  a  hunting  we  will   go. 


Sly  Reynard   now  lilce   lightning  flies, 
And  sweeps  across  the  vale; 

And   when   the   hounds   too   near  he  spies, 
lie  drops  his   bushy   tail. 

dhcn   ;i   huiitinu:   we   will  uo. 


OLD    BALLADS.  57 

Fond  echo  seems  to  like  the  sport, 

And  join  the  jovial  cry; 
The  woods,  the  hills  the  sound  retort, 

And  music  fills  the  sky. 

When  a  hunting  we  do  go. 

At  last  his  strength  to   faintness   worn, 

Poor  Reynard  ceases  flight; 
Then  hungry,  homeward   we  return. 

To  feast  away  the  night. 

And  a  drinldng  we  do  go. 

Ye  jovial  hunters,  in  the  morn 
Prej^jare  then   for  the  chase; 
Rise  at  the  sounding  of  the  horn 
And  health   with   sport  embrace. 
When   a  hunting  we  do  go. 

J/eitrv  /■'ielifiu:'. 


HEARTS  OF  OAK. 

pOAlI".,   cheer  up,   my  lads! 

'lis  to  £;iory  we  steer, 
To  add  soniethin*^-  more 

to  this   wonderful  year: 
To  honour   we  call   you,  , 

not  press   you   like   slaves; 
For  who  are  so  free 

as  the  sons  of  the  waves? 
Flearts  of  oak  are  our  ships, 
Gallant  tars   are  our  men; 
W'c   always  are  read)'  : 
Steady,   boys,   steaily ! 
WY^'ll   flight   and  we'll   concjuer 

again   and  a'^ain. 


OLD   BALLAbS.  59 

We  ne'er  see  our  foes 

but  we  wish  thcin  to  stay ; 
They   never  see  us  but 

thev   wish  us  awav  ; 
\\   they   run,   why,   we  follow, 

or  run   them   ashore  ; 
For  if  they   won't   flight   us, 

we  cannot  do   more. 
Hearts  of  oak,   etc. 

Hritanni;i   triumphant, 

her  ships  sweep  the  sea; 
Her  standard  is  Justice  — 

her  watchword,   "Be  free!" 
Then  cheer  up,   my  lads! 

with  one  heart  let  us  sing, 
"Our  soldiers,   our  sailors, 

our  statesmen,   and   kini^." 
1 1  carts   of  oak,   etc. 

David  Carrick. 


THE    FINE    OLD    ENGLISH 
GENTLEMAN. 

I'LL  sing  you  a  good  old  song, 

Made  by  a  good  old  pate, 
Of  a  fine  old  English  gentleman, 

Who  had  an  old  estate; 
And  who  kept  up  his  old  mansion 

At  a  bountiful  old  rate. 
With  a  good  old  porter  to  relieve 

The  old  poor  at  his  gate — 
Like  a  fme  old   b^nglish  gentleman, 

All  of  tile  oltlen  time. 

His  hall   so  old  was  hung  around 
With   pilces,   antl  guns,  and  bows, 

And  swords  and  good  old  bucklers 
That  had  stood   against  oltl   foes; 


OLD    BALLADS. 


6i 


'Twas  there  "his  worship"  sat  in  state, 
In   (loul)Ict   and   truiilc  hose, 


And   ([uaffd   his  cup   of  ^ood   old   sack 
To   warm    his   (^ood   old    iiosc^ 

Like   a   line   old    I'JiL;lisli   j^enlleniaii, 
All   of  the   olden   time. 


62  OLD    BALLADS. 

When  winter's  cold  brought  frost  and  snow, 

He  open'd  his  house  to  all; 
And  though  three-score  and  ten  his  years, 

He  featly  led  the  ball. 
Nor  was  the  houseless  w^anderer 

E'er  driven  from  his  hall; 
For  while  he  feasted  all  the  great, 

He  ne'er  forgot  the  small — 
Like  a  fine  old  English  gentleman, 

All  of  the  olden  time. 


But  time,  though  sweet,  is  strong  in  flight, 

And  years  roll  swiftly  by; 
And  autumn's  falling  leaves  proclaim'd 

The  old  man  —  he  must  die! 
He  laid  him   down  quite  tranquilly, 

Gave  up  his  latest  sigh; 
And  mournful  stillness  reign'd  around, 

And  tears  bedew'd  each  eye — 
For  this  good  old  English  gentleman, 

All  of  the  olden  time. 


OLD   BALLADS. 

Now,   surely  this   is  better  lar 

Than   all  the  new  ])arade 
Of  theatres   and   laney   balls, 

"At  home"   and  masquerade! 
And   much   more  economical, 

For  all   his  bills  were  paid, 
Then   leave  your  new   vagaries  (juile, 

.■\nd   take   u])   the   old   tratle — 

Of  a  fine  old  English  gentleman, 

yVU   of  the   olden   time. 

Anon. 


Till-:   15A\'  OF  BISCAY  O! 

T    ()L'l)    roared   the   dreatlful    thunder! 

The  rain   a   deluge  showers! 
The  cUjuds   were   rent  asunder 
By   lightning's   vi\id   powers! 

The   night,   both   drear   and   dark', 
(  )ur   ])( )or   (lev(  ited   bark, 

Till    next   day,   there   she   lay. 
In  the  Bay  of  Biscay   O  ! 


66  OLD    BALLADS. 

Now  dashed  upon  the  billow, 
Our  op'ninrr  timbers  creak ; 
Each  fears  a  wat'ry  pillow, 
None  stop  the  dreadful  leak! 
To  cling  to  slipp'ry  shrouds, 
Each  breathless  seaman  crowds, 
As  she  lay,  till  the  day. 
In  the  Bay  of  Biscay  O! 

At  length  the  wished-for  morrow- 
Broke  through  the  hazy  sky  ; 
Absorbed  in  silent  sorrow. 
Each  heaved  the  bitter  sigh; 
The  dismal  wreck  to  view, 
Struck  horror  to  the  crew. 
As  she  lay,  on  that  day, 
In  the   Bay  of  Biscay   O ! 

Her  yielding  timbers  sever. 
Her  pitchy  seams  are  rent; 

When  Heaven,  all-bounteous  ever. 
Its  boundless  mercy  sent! 


OLD    BALLADS. 


67 


A  sail  in  sight  appears, 
We  hail  her  with  three  cheers  ! 
Now  we  sail,  witli  the  gale, 
From  the  Bay  of  Biscay  O ! 

Andri7o   Cherrv. 


:4- 


BLACK-EYED  SUSAN. 

ALL  in  the  Downs  the  fleet  was  moored, 

The  streamers  waving  in  the  wind, 
When  black-eyed  Susan  came  on  board : 
"Oh!  where  shall  I  my  true  love  find? 
Tell  me,  ye  jovial  sailors,  tell  me  true, 
If  my  sweet  WiUiam  sails  among  your  crew?" 

William,  who  high  upon  the  yard, 

Rocked  by  the  billows  to  and  fro, 
Soon  as  her  well-known   voice  he  heard, 

He  sighed,  and  cast  his  eyes  below: 
The  cord  glides  swiftly 

through  his  glowing  hands, 
And,   quick  as  lightning, 

on  the  deck  he  stands. 


OLD    BALLADS.  71 

So  tlie  sweet  larlc,   liiL;h   poised   in   air, 
Shuts  close  liis  pinions  to  his  breast 

[It,   cliancc,   his  mate's  shnll   call   he   hear), 
And  drops  at   once  into  her  nest: 

The   noblest  captain   in   the   British   fleet 

Might  envy  William's  lips  those  kisses  sweet. 

"Oh,   Susan!   Susan!   lovely   dear! 

My  vows  shall   ever  true  remain; 
Let   me  kiss  off  that   falling  tear, 

We  only  part  to  meet  again : 
Change  as  ye   list,   ye   w  inds ! 

my    heart   shall    be 
The  faithful  compass  that  still  ])oints  to  thee. 

"Believe   not   what   the   landsmen   say, 

Who  temj)t  with  doubts  thy  constant  mini!; 

They  tell   thee — sailors   when   away 
In  every  port  a   mistress   fnul! 

Yes,  yes,   believe  them 

when    thev   tell    thee   so. 

For  thou  art  present   wheresoe'er   I   go. 


72  OLD    BALLADS. 

''If  to  fair  India's  coast  we  sail, 

Thine  eyes  are  seen    in   dianiontls  bright ; 
Thy   l)rcath   in  Afric's  spicy  gale, 

Thy  skin  in   ivory  so   white  : 
Thus  every  beauteous   obicct  that  I   view 
Wakes  in  my  soul  some 

charm   of  lovelv  Sue. 


>- 


"Tliough   battle  call   me   from  thy   arms, 
Let  not  ni\-   pietty  Susan   mourn  ; 

Though   camions   roar,   yet   iVec   iVom  harms, 
Wilh'am   shall   to   his   dear   return: 


OLD    BALLADS.  73 

Love  turns  aside  tlic  balls 

that  round  me  fly, 
Lest  precious  tears  should 

drop  from  Susan's  eye." 

The  boatswain  gave  the  dreadful  word, 

The  sails  their  swelling  bosoms  spread; 
No  longer  must  she  stay  on  board: 
They  kissed,  she  sighed, 

he  hung  his  head. 
Her  lessening  boat,   unwilling,  rows  to  land; 
"Adieu!"  she  cried,  and  waved  her  lily  hand. 

J.  Gay. 


DUNCAN  GRAY. 

rWNCAN  Grey  came  here  to  woo, 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't. 
On   blythe  yule   night  when   we  were   fou, 

]  l;i,   ha,   the   wooing   o't. 
Maggie  coost'   her  head   fu'   high, 
Look'd  asklent  and  unco  skeigh. 


74 


OLD    BALLADS. 


Gart  poor   1  )uncan  stand  abeigh 
Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't. 


Duncan   flcech'd,   and   Duncan  jiray'd ; 

Ha,   ha,   the  wooing  o't, 
Meg  was  deaf  as  Ailsa  Craig, 

Ha,   ha,   the  wooing  o't. 


OLD    BALLADS.  75 

Dunciin   siL;h'd  baith  out  and  in, 
Grat  his  een  baith  bleer't  and  bhn', 
Spak  o'   lowpin  o'er  a  hnn; 
Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't. 

Time  and  chance  are  but  a  tide, 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't, 
SHghted  love  is  sair  to  bide, 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't. 
Shall  I,   like  a  fool,   quoth  he, 
For  a  haughty  hizzie  dee  ? 
She  may  gae  to — France  for  me. 

Ha,   ha,  the  wooing  o't. 

How  it  comes  let  doctors  tell, 

1  la,   ha,   the   wooing  o't, 
Meg  grew  sick — as  he  grew  well. 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't. 
Something  in   her  bosom   wrings, 
For  relief  a  sigh  she  brings; 
.Vnd   (  ),   her  een,   they   spak   sic  things! 

Ha,  ha,   the   wooing  o't. 


70 


OLD    BALLADS. 


Duncan   was  a  lad  o'   grace, 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't, 
Maggie's  was  a  piteous  case, 

Ha,   ha,   the  wooing  o't. 
Duncan   coukhia  be  her  death. 
Swelling  pity  snioor'd  his  wrath; 
Now  they're   crouse  and   cantie  baith. 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't. 


^^^  mi 


Till-:    I'.AILIFF'S    DAUGHTER    OF 
ISLINGTON. 

^rilERE  was  a  youth, 

and  a  wcU-bcloved  youth, 

Ami  he  was  a  sc^uire's  son; 
lie  loved   the  bailiff's   dauc^hter  denr 

Tiiat  lived   in    IsIinLjton. 

Yet  she   was  coy,   and   would   not  believe 

That  he   did   love  her  so. 
No;   nor   at  any   time   would  she 

.\ny   countenance  to  him   show. 

Ihit   when   his   friends   did   understand 

1  lis    lond   and    foolish    mind, 
They   sent   him    up    to    laii'    London 

.\n   a])])rentice   for   to   bind. 


78 


OLD    BALLADS. 


And  when   he   had  been  seven   long  years, 
And  never  his  love  could   see: 

"Many  a  tear  have   I  shed  for  her  sake, 
When   she   little   thought  of  me." 


Then   all  the  maids  of  Islington 
Went  fortii  to  sport  and  play, 

All  but  the  bailiff's  daughter  dear — 
She  secretly  stole  away. 


OLD    BALLADS.  79 

She  pulled   oft"  her  gown  of  green, 

And  jnit  on   ragged  attire, 
And  to  fair  London  siie   would  go, 

Her  true  love  to  inquire. 

And  as  she  went  along  the  high  road, 
Tlie  weather  being  hot  and  dry, 

She  sat  her  down  upon  a  green  bank. 
And   her  true  love  came  riding  by. 

She  started  up,  with  a  colour  so  red, 
Catching  hold  of  his  bridle-rein; 

^'One  penny,  one  penny,  kind  sir,"  she  said, 
"Will  ease  me  of  much  pain." 

■"Before  I  give  you  one  penny,    sweetheart, 
Pray  tell   me  where  you  were  born.^" 

''At  Islington,  kind  sir,"  said  she, 

"Where  1  have  had  many   a  scorn." 

"I  pr'ythee,  sweetheart,  then  tell  to   me, 

O  tell   me,   whether  you   know 
The  bailiff's  daughter  of  Islington  ? " 

"She   is  dead,   sir,   long  ago." 


8o 


nr.D    IJALLADS. 


"If  she  be  dead,   then   tal^e   my   horse, 
l\Iy  saddle  and  bridle  also; 


ff  ^ 


For   1    will    into   some   far   countric. 
Where   no   man   shall   me  Icnow.' 


ULD    BALLADS. 


8i 


"O  stay,   C)  sta)-,   thovi   L;oudly   N'oulli, 

Slie  standcth   by   thy  side: 
She   is  here  ahve,   slie  is   not  dead  — 

And   readv  to  be  thy  bride." 

"O   farewell   i^rief.   and   welcome  joy, 
1\'n   thousand   times   therefore  ! 

l'\:ir  now    I   have  found   my   own   true  love, 
Whom  1  thouiiht  I  should  never  see  more.' 


THE  MILLER  OF  DEE. 

T*]  lERE  was  a  jolly  miller 

once  lived  on  the  river  Dee, 
He  danced  and  sang 

from   morn   till   night, 

no  lark  so  blithe  as  he; 
.Viul  this  the  burtlcn  of  his  song 

for  ever  used  to  be: 
"I  care  for  nobody,   no,   not  I, 

if  nobody   cares  for  me. 

"I  live  bv  mv  mill,   (iod   bless   her! 

she's  kindred,   child,  and   wife; 
I  would  not  change  my  station 

for  any   other  in  hfc. 
No  lawyer,   surgeon,   or  doctor, 

e'er  had  a   groat  from   me, 
T  care  for  nobody,   no,   not  I, 

il  nobody  cares  for  me." 


OLD    BALLADS.  83 


When  spring  begins  his  merry  career, 

oh!   how  his  heart  grows  gay; 
No  summer's  drought  alarms 

his  fears,   nor  winter's  cold  decay; 
No  foresight  mars  the  miller's  joy, 

who's   wont  to  sing  and  say : 
"  Let  others  toil  from  year  to  year, 

I  live  from   day  to  day." 

Thus,   like  the  miller,  bold  and  free, 

let   us   rejoice  and  sing. 
The   days  of  youth   are   made  for  glee, 

and   time   is  on  the   wing; 
This  song  shall  pass  from   me  to  thee, 

along  the  jovial  ring. 
Let  iieart  and  voice  and  all  agree 

to  say,   "Long  live  the  King!" 

Isaac  Bickcrstaffe, 


THE  Axr;KT;s  \viiispi:r. 

A    BABY  was  sleeping, 

Its  mother  was   weeping, 

For  her  husband   was  far 

on  the  wild  raging  sea, 

And  the  tempest  was  swelling 

Round  the  fisherman's  dwelling, 

j\nd   she  cried,   "Dermot,   darling, 

oh  come  back  to  me." 

Ilcr  beads  while  she  numbered, 
The   baby   still   shinibered, 
.Vnd  smiled  in   her   face, 

as   she  bended   her   knee; 
(  )h !   bless'd   be   thai    wdrning. 
My  child,   thy   sleep   adorning, 
J'or  I   know  that  the  angels 

are  whispering  with   tlicc. 


OLD    BALLADS. 


85 


And  while   tliey  are  keeping 
Bri^^lit  watch  o'er  tliy  sleeping, 
Oh,  pray  to   thcni  softly, 

my  baby,   with   me, 
And  say  tluni   wouJdVt   r;ithcr 
They  w^atch'd   o'er  thy   father! 
For   I    know   thai   the   ;iiiL;els 

are   whispering   with   thee. 


86 


OLD    BALLADS. 


The  dawn  of  the  morning 
Saw  Dermot  returning, 
And  the  wife  wept  with  joy 

her  babe's  father  to  see, 
And  closely  caressing 
Her  child  with  a  blessing. 
Said,   "I  knew  that  the  angels 

were  whispering  with   thee." 

Samiit'l  Lover. 


SIMON    THE    CELLARER. 

QLT )  Simon  the  Cellarer 

keeps  a  large  store 
Of  Malmsey  and   Malvoisie, 
And  Cyprus  and   who  can  say 

iiow   many   more? 
For  a   chary   old   soul   is  he, 
A  chary   old   soul   is  he; 
Of  Sack   ;nul  Canary   he  never  doth  fail. 
And  all   the   yc;ir  round 

there   is  brewini^  of  ale; 
Yet   he   never  aileth, 

lie   ([uainlly   doth   say, 
\\  iule   he   keeps  to   iiis  sober 

six   llat^ons  a  day: 


88  ^LD    BALLADS. 

But  ho!  ho!   ho!   his  nose  dolh  shew 

How  oft  the  black  Jack- 
to  his  Hps  dolh  go; 

But  ho!  ho!  ho!  his   nose  doth  shew 

How  oft  the  black  Jack 

to  his  lips  doth   go. 

Dame  Margery  sits 

in   her  own  still-room, 
And  a  Matron  sage  is  she; 
From  thence   oft  at  Curfew 

is  wafted   a   fume, 
She  says  it  is  Rosemarie, 
She  says  it  is  Rosemarie; 
]iut  there's  a  small   cupboard 

behind  the  back   stair, 
And  the   maids  say  they  often  see 

]\Iargery   there. 

Now,  Margery   says  that  she 

grows  very  old 

And  must  take  a  something 

to  keep  out  the   cold! 


OLD    BALLADS. 


80 


But  ho!  lio!  ho!  old  Simon  doth  know- 
Where  many  a  flask  ot"  his  best  doth  go; 
But  ho!  lio !  ho!  old  Simon  doth  know- 
Where  manv  a  flask  of  his  best  doth  go. 


Old  Simon   reclines  in   his 

highdjack'd   chair, 
And  talks  about   taking  a   wife; 
And   Margery  often   is  heard   to   declare 
She   ought   to    be    settled    in    lite, 
She  ought   to   be  settled   ni   lite; 


90 


OLD    BALLADS. 


But  Margery  has  (so  the  maids  say) 

a  tongue, 
And  she's  not  very  handsome, 

and  not  very  young; 
So  somehow  it  ends  with  a  shake 

of  the  head, 
And  Simon  he  brews 

him  a  tankard  instead; 
While  ho!  ho!   ho! 

he  will  chuckle  and  crow, 
What!  marry  old  Margery?  no  no,  no! 
While  ho!   ho!  ho! 

he  will  chuckle  and  crow. 
What!   marry   old  Margery?   no,   no,   no! 

//;   U.   Bcllamv. 


^<r 


'¥ 


AULD    ROllIX    (iKAV. 

VyniCN    the   sheep   ;ire   in   tlie    l";iuhl, 

and   the    kye   at    hanie, 

And   a'   the   warhl    to  sleep   are   L;ane, 

'I'he   waes  o'   my   heart   la' 

in   showers   iVae   my   ce, 

When    m\'    mideman    lies   snand   1)\-    nie. 


^'()unL;    lamie   loo'd    me    weel, 

and   sochl    me    lor   his   hritle; 


92  OLD    BALLADS. 

But,  saving  a  croun, 

he  had  naething  else  beside. 
To  mak  that  croun  a  pund 

young  Jamie  gaed  to  sea, 
And  the  croun  and  the  pund 

were  baith  for  me. 

He  hadna  been   awa  a  week  but  only  twa, 
When  my  mother  she  fell  sick, 

and  the  cow  was  stown  awa; 
My  father  brak  his  arm, 

and  young  Jamie  at  the  sea. 
And  auld  Robin  Gray  cam'  acourtin'  me. 

My  father  coukina  work 

and  my  mother  couldna  spin; 
I  toiled  day  and  niciit, 

but  their  bread  I  couldna  win ; 
Auld  Rob  maintain'd  them  baith, 

and,   \vi'  tears  in  his  ee, 
Said,   "Jennie,   for  their  sakes, 

oh,   marry  me!" 


OLD    BALLADS.  95 

j\Iy   licarl  it  said   nay, 

for   I   look'M   tor  Jamie  back; 
But   the   wind   it   blew   liiL;li, 

and  the  ship   it  was  a  \Yreck; 
The  sliip  it   was  a   wreck  — 

why  ihdna  Jamie  dee? 
Or  whv   do   I    Hve    to   sa\%   Wae's   me? 

]\Iy   father  arG;ued   s;iir, 

my   mother  (hchia  speak, 
Hut  she  lookit  in   my  face 

till   my   heart  was   like  to  break; 
Sae  thev   u'ied   l.iin    m\-   li.ind, 

though   m\    heart   was   in   the  sea; 
And   auld  Robin  Gray 

was  gudeman  to   me. 

I    hadna   been    a    wife 

a  week   but   onl\'    four. 
When,   sitting  sae   mouiiifully 

at   the   door, 


q6  OLD    BALLADS. 

I  saw  my  Jamie's  wraith, 

for   I  coukina  thinlc  it  he, 
Till  lie  said,   "I'm  come  back 

for  to   marry  tiiee." 

Oh,   sair  did   we   <^reet  and 

muckle   did   we  sav, 
We  took  but  ae  kiss  and   we  tore 

ourselves  away; 
I  wisli  I  were  dead!  but  I'm   no  like  to  dee; 
And   why  do   I   live  to  say,   Wae's   me? 

I  gang  like  a  ghaist,    and   I   carena   to  spin; 
I  daurna   think-   on  Jamie, 

for  that   wad   be  a   sin. 
I)Ut    I'll    (111    my   best   a,   gudc    wife   to   be, 
For   aukl   Robin    Gray   is   kind   unto   me. 

I.dilv  Ainu   I.'tndsav. 


BONNIE   DUNDEE. 

'TO  the  lords  of  Convention, 

'twas  Claverhouse  spoke, 
Ere  the  king's  crown  go  down 

there  are  crowns  to  be  broke; 
Then  each  cavalier 

who  loves  honour  and  me. 
Let  him  follow  the  bonnets 

of  Bonnie  Dundee. 

Come  fill  up  my  cup, 

come  fill  up   my  can, 
Come  saddle  my  horses 

and  call  out  my  men, 
Unhook  the  west  port, 

and   let  us  gae  free, 
For  it's  u})  with   the  bonnets 

of  Bonnie  Dundee. 


98 


OLD    BALLADS. 


T)unclcc   he   is   mounted, 

he   rides   up   the   street, 
The   bells   they   rini;   bacl<\v;ird, 

the  (h-iims   ihev   are  beat, 


But   the   Provost  (douce   man     said, 

"Just  e'en   let   it   be, 
h'or   tlie   town   is    well    rid   o' 

that   deil    o'    Dundee." 
Come   till   up   ni}-   cuj), 

come   fill    up   in\-    can,   etc. 


OLD    BALLADS.  99 

There  are  liills  beyond  Penthiiul, 

and  lands  beyond  Forth; 
If  tliere's   lords  in  the  south, 

there  are  chiefs  in  the  north, 
There  are  brave  Dunevassals, 

three  thousand  times  three, 
Will   cry   hey!   for  the  bonnets 

of  Bonnie  Dundee. 
Come  fill    ii|)   my  cup, 

come  lill   u])   my   can,   etc. 

riien   awa'   to   the   hills, 

to  tlie  lea,  to  the  roclcs : 
Ere  1  own  an  usur])cr  I'll  crouch  \vi'  the  fox; 
.Vnd  tremble,    false  Whisks, 

in   the  midst  of  \our   "lee 
^'e  hae   no   seen   the   last 

of  my   bomiets   and   me. 
Come   fill    up   m\-   cuj), 

conu'    lill    up   my   can,   etc. 

Sir    Willi,-)-   Scott. 


SALIA'    IX    Oll^    ALLEY. 

r\F  all  the  c;irls  that  arc  so  smart. 
There's  none  like  pretty   Sally; 
She  is  the   darling  of  m\-   heart, 

And   she   li\es   in    our   alley. 
There    is   no    lady    in    the   land 

That's  halt"  so  sweet  as   Sail)': 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And   she  lives  in   our  alley. 

1  ler   father   he   mak'es   cabbage-nets, 

And  through   the  streets  does  cry   "em 
Her  mother  she  sells   laces   long 

do   such   as   please  to  buy   'em. 
But  sure  such    folks  could   ne'er  beget 

So  sweet   a  girl   as  Sally: 
She  is  the  darling  of  m\    heart, 

And  she  lives  in   our  alley. 


^_:^^-^^^'» 


OLD    BALLADS.  103 

When  she  is  by,  I  leave  my  work 

(I  love   her  so  sincerely), 
J\Iy  master  comes,   like  any  Turk, 

And  bangs  me  most  severely. 
But  let  him  bang  his  belly  full, 

I'll  bear  it  all  for  Sally: 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And  she   lives  in   our   alley. 

Of  all  the  days  that's  in  the  week, 

I  dearly  love  but  one  day; 
And  that's  the  day  that  comes  betwixt 

A  Saturday  and  Monday. 
For  then  I'm   dress'd  all   in   my  best, 

To  walk  abroad  with  Sally: 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart. 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley. 

My  master  carries  mc  to  church, 

And  often  am   1   bkimcd 
Because  I   leave  him   in   the  lurch 

As  soon  as  text  is  named. 


I04 


OLD    BALLADS. 


I  leave  the  church  in  sermon  time, 
And  shnk  away  to  Sally: 

She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 
^•\nd  she  lives  in  our  allev. 


When  Christmas  comes  about  again. 
Oh!  then  I  shall  have   money; 

I'll   hoard   it  up,   and  box  and   all 
I'll  give  it  to  my  honey. 


OLD    BALLADS. 


lo: 


I  would  it   were  ten   tliousand  pounds, 

I'd  i^ivc  it  all   to  Sally: 
She  is  the  darling  of  my   heart, 

And  she  lives  in   our  alley. 

My   master  and   the   neighbours  all 

Make  game  of  me  antl   Sally; 
.Vnd   (^but   for   herj   I'd  better  be 

A  slave,   and  row  a  galley. 
But  when   my   seven   long  years  are  out, 

(  )h!   then    I'll    marry   Sally: 
Oh  !   then   we'll   wed,    and   then   we'll   bed, 

J)Ut   not  in   our   alley. 

Ih-nrv   Carev. 


KITTY    OF    COLERAINE. 

A  S  beautiful  Kitty  one 

morning  was  tripping 
With  a  pitcher  of  milk 

from  the  fair  of  Coleraine, 
When  she  saw  me  she  stumbled, 

the  i)itcher  it  tumbled, 
And  all  the  sweet  buttermilk 

water'd   the  i)lain. 

"Oh,   what  shall  1   do   now? 

'Twas  looking  at  you,   !iow; 
Sure,   sure,   such   a   pitcher 

I'll   ncV-r   meet  again. 
'Twas  the   pride  of  my   dairy, 

O  Barnay  AI'Leary, 
You're  sent  as  a  plague 

to   the   girls  of  Coleraine! 


OLD    BALLADS. 


107 


1  sat  down   beside  her, 

and   gcntl_\-   did  chide   her, 
That  such  a  misfortune 

should  give  her  sucli  i)ain. 


,^- 


A   kiss  then   T  s^ave  her, 

before  T  did   leave  her. 
She  vow'd   for  sucli  pleasure 

she'd   break    il   asjain. 


io8  OLD   BALLADS. 

'Tvvas  haymaking  season, 

I  can't  tell  tiie  reason — 
Alisfortunes  will  never  come 

sin'j,ic,   that's  plain - 
For  very  soon  after  poor  Kitty's  disaster 
The   devil   a   pitcher 

was  wliole  in  Colerainc. 

Edward  LvxiJi'/it. 


TIKRE'S    TO    TIIF,    MATDEN    OF 
BASHFUL    FIFTEEN. 

LIERE'S   to  the   maiden   of  bashful  fifteen, 

Now  to  the  widow  of  fifty; 
Here's  to  the   llauntinL;-  extravagant  cpican, 
.And  here's  to  the  housewife  th.it's  thril'ty: 
Let  the  toast  j^ass, 
Drink-  to   the  lass  — 
1    warrant  she'll   jirovc 

an   excuse  for  the  glass. 


OLD    BALLADS. 


109 


Here's  to  the  charmer 

whose  dim])lcs  we  prize, 
Now  to  the  damsel   with   none,  sir; 
Here's  to  the  "irl 

with  a  pair  of  bhie  eyes, 
And  now  to  the   nym]ih 

with  but  one,  sir: 


Let  the  toast   pass, 
T)iinl<   to   the   lass — 
I    warrant   she'll   i-)rove 

an  excuse  for  the  glass. 


no  OLD    BALLADS. 

Here's  to  the  maid 

with  a  bosom   of  snow, 
Now"  to  her  that's 

as  brown  as  a  berry; 
Here's  to  the   wife 

with  a  face  full  of  woe, 
And  now^  to  the  damsel  that's  merry 
Let  the  toast  pass, 
Drink  to  the  lass — 
I  warrant  she'll  prove 

an  excuse  for  the  glass. 


For  let  her  be  clumsy, 

or  let  her  be  slim. 
Young  or  ancient, 

I  care  not  a  feather; 
So  fill  up  a  bumper, 

nay,   fill   to   the   brim, 
And   let  us  e'en  toast  'em   together: 


OLD   BALLADS. 


II I 


Let  the  toast  pass, 
Drink   to  the   lass — 
1   warrant  she'll  prove 

an  excuse  for  the  glass. 

A'.   B.   SheriJau. 


THE    LEATHER    BOTTEL. 


'XWAS  God   above 

tliat   made   all    ihiiii^s, 
The  heav'ns,  the  earth, 

and   all   tliei'eiii : 
The   ships   that   on 

the  sea  do   swim 
To    L;uard    fioni    foes 

that  none   come  in; 


OLD    BALLADS. 


Ill 


Ami   let  ihcm   ;ill 

do   what  llicy   can, 

'Twas   for  one  end  — 

the  use  of  man. 


So  1    wi^Ii    in   lu.M\"n 

his   soul    ni.i\'    dwell 
That  first   found   out 

the   leather  bottel. 


114 


OLD    BAI>LADS. 

Now,  what  do  you 

say  to  these  cans   of  wood? 
Oh,  no,  in  faith 

they  cannot  be  good; 
For  if  the  bearer 

fall  by  the  way. 
Why,  on  the  ground 

your  liquor  doth  lay; 
But  had  it  been 

in  a  leather  bottel. 
Although  he  had  fallen 

all  had  been   well. 
So  I  wish  in  heav'n 

his  soul  may  dwell 
That  first  found  out 

the  leather  bottel. 

Then  what  do  you  say 

to  these  glasses  fine? 
Oh,  they  shall  have 

no  praise  of  mine ; 


OLD   BALLADS.  115 

For  if  you  chance 

to  touch  the  brim, 
Down  falls  the  liquor 

and  all  therein. 
But  had  it  been  in 

a  leather  bottel, 
And  the  stopple  in, 

all  had  been  well. 
So  I  wish  in  heav'n 

his  soul  may  dwell 
That  first  found  out 

the  leather  bottel. 

Then  what  do  you  say 

to  these  black  i)ots  three? 
If  a  man  and  his  wife 

should  not  agree, 
Why,  they'll  tug  and  pull 

till  their  liquor  doth  spill; 
In  a  leather  bottel  they  may 

tug  their  fill, 


ii6 


OLD    IJALLADS. 


And  pull  away  till 

their  hearts  do   ake, 
And  yet   their  li([uor 

no   harm   can   talce. 


So   I   wish   in   heav'n 

his  soul   may   dwell 
'I  Iiat    llrst    ((Uiiul   ( uit 

the    leather   hoilr 


OLD    IJAIJ.ADS.  117 

Then   wIkiI   do  you  say 

to   these   n;iL;oiis   fiiier' 
Oh,   tlicy  shall   have 

no   praise  of  mine; 
For  when   a  lord 

is  about  to  dine, 
And    sends  them  to  be 

filled   with  wine, 
The   man   with   the   flac^on 

doth    run   away, 
Because  it  is  silver  most 

gallant  and   gay. 
So   1    wi-li    in   lieav'n 

his   soul    may   dwell 
That   first   found   out 

the  leather  bottel. 

A   leather  bottM 

we   know   is   good, 
h'ar   better   than    glasses 

or   cans   oi    wnoil  ; 


ii8 


OLD    liALI.ADS. 


For  when   a   man's 

at   work    in    llic   field 
^'our  glasses   and   })uls   no 

comfort  will  yield  ; 
But  a  good  leather 

bottel  standinL;   bv 
Will  raise  his  spirits 

whenever  he's   drv. 
So  I  wish  in  heav'n 

his   soul   may   dwell 
'Hiat   first  found   out 

the   leadier   bottol. 


At  noon   tlie  haymalccrs 

sit  them   down, 
To    drink-    from    Uieir   bullies 

(if  ale   nut-brow  n  ; 
In   summer,   too,    when 

the  weather   is   warm, 
A   gcjod   bottle    full    will   do 

them    no   harm. 


'■~  X.'--*"V>-'^  ^ 


OLD    BALLADS. 


1  2  1 


Then   the   hids   and 

the  lasses  begin  to  tottle, 
But  what   wouhl  they 

do  without  this  bottle? 


So  I   wish   in   heav'n 

his   soul    mav   dwel 
That    fn'st    found   out 

the  leather  bott^l. 


OLD   BALLADS. 

There's  never  a  lord, 

an  earl,  or  knight, 
But  in  this  bottle 

doth  take  delight ; 
For  when  he's  hunting 

of  the  deer 
He  oft  doth  wish 

for  a  bottle  of  beer. 
Likewise  the  man 

that  works    in  the  wood, 
A  bottle  of  beer  will 

oft  do  him  good. 
So  I  wish  in  heav'n 

his  soul  may  dwell 
That  first  found  out 

the  leather  bottel. 


And  when  the  bottle 

at  last  grows  old, 
And  will  good  licjuor 

no  longer  hold, 


OLD    BALLADS. 


123 


Out  of  the  side  you 

may  take  a  clout, 
To  mend  your  shoes 

when  they're  worn  out; 
Or  take  and  hang  it 

up  on  a  pin, 
'Twill  serve  to  put  hinges 

and  old  things  in. 
So  I  wish  in  heav'n 

his  soul  may  dwell 
That  first  found  out 

the   leather  bottel. 


WOODMAN,    SPARE   THAT   TREE. 

WOODMAN,  spare  tliat  tree, 

lV)Uch   not  a   sitii^lc  boui^h — 
111   youth   it   shcltcr'd   me, 

And  I'll  protect  it  now. 
T.vas   my   forefather's  hand 

That  placed   it   near  his  cot. 
There,   woodman,   let  it   stand. 

Thy   axe   shall   harm   it   not. 
That  old   familiar  tree, 

Wliose  glory   and   renown 
Are  spread   o'er   land  and   sea. 

Say,   wonldst  thou   hack   it  down? 


OLD    BALLADS.  12- 

Woodman,   forbear  lliy   stroke, 

Cut   not  its   earth-bound  ties  — 
(  )h,   si)are  that  ai^ed  oak. 

Now,  towerini^  to  tlie  skies. 
Oft.   when  a  careless  child, 

Beneath  its  shade  I  heard 
The  wood-notes  sweet  and  wiUl, 

Of  many  a  forest  bird, 
liy   mother  kiss'd  me  here. 

My  father  press'd  my   hand, 
I  ask  thee,   with  a  tear. 

Oh,   let  that  old  oak  stand. 

My   hcart-strin^^s   rovnid  thee  clint;. 

Close   at   thy   bark,    old    friend  — 
Here  shall  the  wild  bird   sini^. 

And  still  thy  branches  bend. 
Old   tree,   the   storm   still   brave. 

And,   woodman,   leave   the  spot  — 
While   I've  a  hand  to  save 

Tlu-   axe  shall  harm   it   not. 

('iciicral  Cj .   P.   Morris. 


THE  TOKEN. 

'T^HE  breeze   was  fresh,   the  ship  in   stays, 

Each  breaker  hush\l,   llic  sliore  a  ha7x, 
When  Jack  no   more   on   duty   call'd, 
His  true  love's  tolcens   overhaukd  ; 
Tlie  broken   s^oKl,   the  braided   hair, 
The  tender   motto,   writ   so   fair, 
U])on   his    'baccobox   he   views, 
Nancy  the  ])oet,   love   tlie   muse. 
"If  you   loves  I,   as  I   loves  you. 
No  pair  so  ha])py   as   we  two." 

The  storm,   th;it   lik-e   a   shapeless  wixxk', 
Had  strew'd   with   rii^s^insj;  all  the  deck, 
That  tars  for  sharks  had  L;iv'n   a   feast, 
And  left  the   ship  a   hulk  —  had  ceas'd  : 


OLD    BALLADS. 


1  2: 


When  Jack,   as   witli   his   messmates  dear, 
He  shared  the  L;ro<^  their  hearts    to  cliccr, 
Toolc   from   his   'hncco-box   a   quid, 
And   spell'd   tor  comfort  on   the   Wd. 
"I(   you   lo\cs   I,   as   [   loves  you, 
Xo   j)air  so   hiippx'    as   we   two." 


128  OLD    BALLADS. 

The  voyage, — that  had  been  long  and  hard. 

But  that  had  yielded  full  reward, 

And  brought  each  sailor  to  his  friend 

Happy  and  rich — was  at  an  end: 

When  Jack,  his  toils  and  perils  o'er, 

Beheld  his  Nancy  on  the  shore: 

He  then  the  'bacco-box  display'd, 

And  cried,  and  seized  the  yielding  maid, 

"If  you  loves  I,  as  I  loves  you. 

No  pair  so  happy  as  we  two." 

C.  Dibdin. 


O,  WERT  THOU  IN  THE  C  AULD  BLAST. 

n    WERT  thou  in  the  cauld  blast. 

On  yonder  lea. 
My  plaidie  to  the  angry  airt, 

I'd  shelter  thee. 
Or  did  misfortune's  bitter  storms 

Around  thee  blaw, 
Thv  bield  should  be   niv  bosom, 

To  share  it  a'. 


OLD    BALLADS. 


I  20 


Or  were   I   in   the  \\ildest  waste, 

She  bleak   and   bare, 
The  desert  were  a  paradise. 

If  thou  wert   there, 
Or  were  I  monarch  o'  the  globe, 

\Vi'   thee  to   reign, 
The  brightest  jewel   in   my   crown. 

Wad  be  my   (luecn. 

Burn!:. 


Till':    PASSIONATE  SHEPHERD  TO 
HIS   L()\'E. 


'''OAIi:   live   wilh   me 
And   we  will  al 


C 

aiul  be  mv   love. 


the  pleasures  prove, 
That  valleys,   groves, 

aiul  hilU    and   fields, 
The   woods   or  steepy 

inouiitains   vields. 


And   we   will   sit   upon   the  rocks, 
Seeing  the  shepherds 

feed  their   ilock's. 
By   shallow   rivers,   In   whose   lalls 
Alelodious  binls  sing   niailrigals. 


ULD    15ALLADS. 


1  U 


And   I  will  make  lliee  beds  of  roses, 
And   a   lliousand   frapjrant   posies; 
A  cap  of  llowcrs,   and   a   kirtle 
Enibrciider'd   o'er 

witli   leaves  of  myrtle; 


A   Li;o\vn   made  of  the   finest   wool, 
Which    from   om-   ])rctty 

l,mil)s   we   pull  ; 
lair    linrd   slippers   lor   the  cold. 
Will)    hucUles   oi    the   purest   i;okl ; 


[32  OLD    HALLADS. 

A  belt  of  straw  and   ivy-biuls, 
With  coral   clasps  and  amber  studs, 
i\nd  it^  these  pleasures  may  thee  move, 
Come  live   with   me   and  be   my  love. 

The  shei)hcr(l  swains  shall  dance   and   sini^ 
For  thy  deliL;"ht  each   May   mornini;-, 
If  these  deliL;hts  tli_\'   mind   may   move, 
Then   live   with   me   and   be   my   love. 

Chrislophcr  Marlowe. 


LOVELY  NAN. 


0\VP:F/r   is   the   ship,    that,   under    sail 

Spreads  her   wiiite  bosom  to    the   gale; 
Sweet,  oh!  sweet's  the  flowine^  can; 
Sweet  to  j)oise  the  hib'ring  oar 


134 


OLD    BALLADS. 


That  tutj;s  us  to  our  native  shore, 

When  the  boatswain  pipes 

the  bar<4'e   to   man; 
Sweet  saiHng  with  a   fav'rint;-  breeze; 
But  oh!   much  sweeter  than   all   these, 

Is  Jack's   delis^ht,   his  lovely   Nan. 


The  needle  faithful   to    the   north, 
To  show  of  constancy   the   worth, 
A  curious   lesson   teaches   man; 
The   needle   time   may    rust,   a    scjuall  cajjsize 

the   biiuiacle   and   all, 


en. I)    BALLADS.  I3: 

Let  seamanship   do  all   it  can; 
Mv   love   in   worth    shall   hiL;hcr   rise! 
Nor  time  shall   rust,   nor  scjualls   caj^size, 
My  faith  and  truth  to  lovely   Nan. 

I   love  my   duty,   love   my  friend, 
Love  tiauh   and   merit  to  defend, 

To  moan  their  loss  who   hazard   ran; 
T  love  to  take  an  honest  part, 
Love  beauty  with   a   s]:)Otless  heart. 

By   manners  love  to  show  the   man. 
To  sail  throui^h   life  by  honour's  breeze; 
'Twas  all   along  of  loving  these 

hirst   made   me  doat  on   lovcl}'   Nan. 

C.   D'lbdiu. 


THE  LASS  OF  RICHMOND  HILL. 

r\S  Richmond   Hill  there  lives  a  lass 
i\Iore  bright  than  May-day  morn, 
Whose  cliarms  all  other  maids  surpass- 
A  rose  without  a  thorn. 

This  lass  so  neat,  with  smiles  so  sweet, 
Has  won  my  right  good-will ; 

I'd  crowns  resign  to  call  her  mine  — 
Sweet  lass  of  Richmond   llill. 

Ye  zephyrs  gay,  that  f;in  the  air. 
And  wanton   thr(»UL;h   the  grove. 

Oh,   whisper  to   my   charming   tair, 
I'd  die  for  her  I   love! 

How  ha]ipy   will  the  shc])herd  be 
Who  calls  this   nxiiiph   his   own! 

Oh,  may  her  choice  be  fix'd  on  nic? 
Mine's  fix'd  on   her  alone. 

Jiinics    I pton. 


rw'H 

m 

/ 

f 

m 

I 

■^ 

M 

f^l' 

vUm 

^.^.- 

vrs-v^-^.'o*^ 


V  ^y-i,-^ 


TELL  ME  NOT,  SWEET. 


''PELL   nie  not,   sweet,  I  am   unldnd, 

That  tVt)m  the  nunnery 
Of  thy  chaste  breast  and   (luict   mind, 
To   war  and   arms   1   lly. 

True,   a   new   mistress   now   I  chase, 

The   first   foe   in   tlie   field; 
And   willi   a   stronger   faith   embrace 

A  swortl,   a  horse,  a  shield. 

Yet  this   inconstancy   is  such, 

As   you,    too,   sliall    adore; 
I   could    not    lo\e   thee,    dear,   so  much, 
Loved    1    not   honoui'   more. 

Richard  f.oi'elace. 


SHE  WORE  A  WREATH  OF  ROSES. 

CHE  wore  a  wreath  of  roses 

that  night  when  first  we  met. 
Her  lovely  face  was  smiling 

beneath  her  curls  of  jet; 
Her  footsteps  had  tiie  lightness, 

her  voice  the  joyous  tone, 
The  tokens  of  a  youthful  iieart 

where  sorrow  is  unknown. 
I  saw  her  but  a  moment, 

yet  methinks  I  see  her  now. 
With  a  wreath  of  summer  flowers 

uj)on  her  snowy  brow. 

A  wreath  of  orange  flowers 

when  next  we  met  she  wore, 
The  expression  of  her  features 

was  more  thoughtful  than  before, 


OLD    IJALLADS. 


141 


And  standing  by  her  side,   was  one, 

who  strove,   and  not  in   vain. 
To  soothe  her  leaving  that  dear  home 


she  ne'er  might  view  again. 


I   saw  her   but   a    moment, 

yet   mclhinks    I    sec   her   now, 
With    a    wreath   of  orange   Ijlossoms 

upon   her  snowy   brow. 


142  OLD   BALLADS. 

And  once  again  I  saw  that  brow, 

no  bridal  wreath  was  there, 
The  widow's  sombre  cap 

conceal'd  her  once  kixuriant  hair; 
She  weeps  in  silent  solitude, 

for  there  is  no  one  near. 
To  press  her  hand  within  his  own, 

and  wipe  away  the  tearl 
I  see  her  broken-hearted, 

and  methinks  I  see  her  now, 
In  the  pride  of  youth  and  beauty, 

with  a  wreath  upon  her  brow. 
Thomas  Haynes  Bayly. 

O    NANNY, 
WILT    THOU    GO    WITH    MEr 

C\  NANNY,   wilt  thou  go  with   me, 

Nor  sigh  to   leave  the  Haunting  town? 
Can   silent   glcns  iiavc  charms   for  tlice, 
The  lowlv  cot  and  russet  gown? 


OLD    BALLADS.  143 

No  longer  drest  in   silken  sheen, 
No  longer  deek'd  with  jewels  rare, 

Say,  can'st  thou  (juit  each  courtly  scene, 
Where  thou  wert  fairest  of  the  fair? 

O  Nanny,  when  thou'rt  far  away. 

Wilt  thou  nt)t  cast  a  wish  behind? 
Say,  can'st  thou  face  the  parciiing  ray, 

Nor  shrink  before  the  wintry  wind? 
Oh,  can  that  soft  and  gentle  mien 

Extremes  of  hardship  learn  to  bear. 
Nor  sad  regret  each  courtly  scene. 

Where  thou   wert  fairest  of  the  fair? 

O  Nanny,   can'st  tiiou  love  so  true, 

Through  perils  keen  with  me  go; 
Or  when  thy  swain   mishap   shall   rue. 

To  share   with  him  the  pang  of  woe? 
Say,  should  disease  or  pain  befall. 

Wilt  thou  assume  the  nurse's  care, 
Nor  wistful  those  gay  scenes   recall, 

Where  thou   wert  fairest   of  the   fair? 


144 


OLD    BALLADS. 


And   when   at  last  thy  love  shall  die, 

Wilt  thou  receive  his  parting  breath, 
Wilt  thou  repress  each  struggling  sigh, 

And  cheer  with  smiles  the  bed  of  death : 
And  wilt  thou  o'er  his  breathless  clay 

Strew  flowers,   and  drop  the  tender  tear, 
Nor  then   regret  those  scenes  so  gay, 

Wliere  tliou   wert  fairest  of  the  fair? 

Tiionias   Percy   D.D. 


D'YE  KEN  JOHN  PEEL? 

n'YE  ken  John  Peel 

with  his  coat  so  gay? 
D'ye  ken  John  Peel 

at  the  break  of  the  clay  ? 
D'ye  ken  Jolin  Peel 

when  he's  far,  far  away, 
With  his  hounds  and 

his  horn  in  the  morning? 
CHORUS. -D'ye  ken,   etc. 

'Twas  the  sound  of  his  horn 

brou<^ht  me  from  my  bed, 
And  the  cry   of  his  hounds 

has  me  ofttimes  led; 
For  Peel's  view  holloa  would 

'waken  the  dead. 
Or  a  fox  from  liis  lair  in  llic  moriiin;^. 
CHORUS.-D'ye  ken,   etc. 


146 


OLD    BALLADS. 


D'ye  ken   tliat  hound 

wliose   voice  is  death  ? 
D'ye  ken   her  sons  of  peerless   faitli' 


D'ye  k-en   tliat  a   lox 

with   his   hist  breath 
Cursed   iheni   all    as   he   died 

in    the   nioininL; ! 
CHORUS.-  D've   ken,   etc. 


OLD    BALI, ADS. 


14; 


Ves,    I    ken    lolin  Peel 

anil   auld   Ruby   too, 
RaiUcr  and  Royal 

and   Bellman    so  true; 
I-'i(ini   the   di'ai;'  to   the   chase, 
I'Voni   the  chase   to  tlie   view, 
Fioni   the   view  to   the  death 

in   the   morninL^r. 
CriORrs.     D'vc  ken,   etc. 


And   I've   tolldw'd    [nhn    Peel 

both   often    and    far. 
O'er   the    rasper-fence, 

the  L;ate,   and   the  bar, 
k  roni    I  ,o\v    1  )enton    side 

u])    to   Scratchmere  Scar, 
When    we    vied    for   the   brush 

in    the   niorniiiL;'. 
CIKiRT'^      I  )'vc   ken,    etc. 


■  48 


OLD    15ALLADS. 


Then   here's   to   John   Peel 

with   my   heart   and   soul. 
Come  fill,   hll  to  him 

a    brimmins/   bowl: 
For  we'll   follow  John   Peel 

thro'   lair  or  thro'   i\)ul. 
While   we're   wak'd  by  his   horn 

in   the    morning. 
ClK  )RUS.  — D'ye   ken,   etc. 

John    II  cnu/s.'crk    Cnt7',-s. 


Printed  ill  Bdi'iiyiii. 


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